a begining of an ending
by Scorpiokagamine
Summary: test run, readers. review so I can figure out how this should go and redirect it. oooh fancy talk


_**Que es esto? Se siente tan bien que no puedo detener mi mano…"**_

_**Wait what? That's not right…**_

_**Well, here it is! It's so bad, I can't even begin to say how bad it is…that's probably not the best thing to say...eh. Whatever.**_

_**I have decided to start from the beginning!**_

**Warning: the author decided to be stupid and has put a rape in this. Please be warned- rape is not fun, nor is it good. Please stop or skip it when you come to the part- you'll know when it's about to happen. Especially because Alden just warned you.**

_**Shut it Alden**_

Chapter 1- another war

Yet another war. Another time where younger children cry, teens try to keep the family safe while mothers protect and lead everyone to safety. Another time when Fathers are forced to fight; famers, merchants, street sweepers, princes, butlers, guards, rich and poor. From young boys to old men, all are to protect the land they loved. Women are to stay with children, not to say they were weak, but to keep the bloodlines strong. In the hopes of more men for future wars. In the hopes of more daughters to produce more men. And so on and so forth.

Street rats such as me were to lead people to safety. "Were" is the key phrase. Not many street rats help out. For free at least. But enough street rats, myself included, help out. Boarding up home windows, blocking doors, clearing the streets. Hiding in safe areas to keep a look out. Its very efficient. Mostly because I'm the new "boss." I only got into the position because the old street rat boss picked me when he was near his death bed and trained me to take his place. Not like I wanted this. But, I shut up and became the next boss of a whole little town. A town made up of servants that were kicked out, children abused by parents, women who had no other reason to live, men too old to fight, everyone and anyone with no home to return to.

We take care of our own. Once I became boss, I made sure the first rule of thumb was "united as one." Meaning if you didn't care about the others in the group, I'd burn your ass. Very efficient, I found, after the first few times. And I quickly gained respect after a while. "boss, we've got a problem." I turn to look at one of my many helpers. "what is it?" I ask, holding up my hand as others try to give me reports.

"we're running out of shelter; we may have to hide a few down there-" I cut him off by throwing a knife in his general direction. Such a young one. So eager to help others, not thinking about our own needs. "we don't hide them there, understand?" I say harshly. "I know, you want to help, but we can't let them know about that place. Least they come down there to hunt us out, right?" I ask him. he's sweating, but nods furiously. "alight. Now go find some spare room-I don't care where. Ask some families, tell them it's going to be cramped for a while, but please bear with it until it's over." He nods and runs off. I sigh and return to others reports.

Little wood here. No room there. A woman can't find her daughter. Some people want to help. There's a fire. Enemy troops entering through the west side. Enemy troops pushed back. Some idiot was tearing down the barricades. Others were trying to run for it. Look at this pretty flower- wait, what?

I bark orders, fixing the little problems. You'd think a prince would be doing this. And some mistake me as one. But no, I'm anything but a good civilian, trying to protect this country that hates me but I love. And I think our dear Prince is a bit busy fighting the war. So I'll just be this secret prince, taking care of his people. Never really met the guy, but I can guess he wouldn't enjoy coming home to his country is a total mess. I breath out in relief as I am told that the battle is coming to a close, our side forcing the opposing force back. I issue the order for my followers to hide, and disappear below the streets. A follower I'd trust with my life- Yuma- follows after me, making sure we're not followed. We open a secret entrance and I enter, holding it up for Yuma. He follows and I quickly close it after him. the hiding spot we have is wide enough for two people, and we can easily see up through the cracks in the street. The ones that no one notices or just passes by because they can't see down. But we can see up.

It's silent.

Yuma and I already know that a single noise from us could possibly set a chain of reaction that could lead to our ends- just a regular day. But we softly lean into each other to offer the other comfort- the knowledge of someone else there, that you're not alone always helps in these times. It's still quiet. You can't hear the usual crowds; the shouting, the crying, the people. Nothing. Meaning we did a good job. I'd congratulate myself if I wasn't so busy worrying. The sign should've come by now. Where is the soldier that usually ran ahead and screamed up and down the streets that we were safe? I chew on my thumb nail. Yuma brushes my shoulder gently, telling me to calm down. I relax a little.

Its hours- or was it minutes?

Until I hear someone run down the street. I almost let out a sigh when I realize he's not ours. He's not shouting out a cry of "its safe" that was actually true. My men haven't giving me the bird call. I tense again. He hits on doors, hearing how solid they are. He tries to pull some out but fails, so he kicks it in frustration. He then tries to make people inside scream. Thankfully, some of my men were there to keep them silent. But it's not safe, I tell you. He moves down the street; trying every door. He even once politely knocked.

Finally, I hear him try a door and hear it peel off loudly. I freeze. He whoops in victory. He gets the rest down, and kick down the door. I glance over to Yuma. He shakes his head. I look back up. I can hear him throwing women into the streets. They beg him to stop but he doesn't understand our language. He yells at them, and I hear a few loud smacks. I can't take it. I squeeze my eyes like a child-

Wait a second.

I yank my eyes open in surprise at my thought them set them in determination. I grab the trap door, getting out before Yuma can stop me. I look over to see just women crying pathetically on the streets. I crawl forwards to one. I poke her and she turns, startled. I cover her lips in a silent request and she nods. "Where is he?" I whisper. She points a finger inside. I let go and slowly work my way through the weeping mothers to get as close to the door as I can. But I have to hide behind one dismayed mother when he comes out again.

He holds a young girl, barely 15, by her long black hair. She thrashes at him, trying to make him drop her. He carries her down and throws her before the crowd of mothers and me. She falls on her faces, but gets up quickly and spits at him. I am appalled by her stupidity. I glance over at the group to see them holding the girls…mother? Back. She cries out words a mother would say when her child is about to die or suffer.

"No, please! Let her go! Spare her! Take me instead!" she begs. The mothers murmur soothing tones, trying to calm her.

"You bastard! Shameless animal! Dishonor on your family! Your descendants! You filthy mutt! There no place in this world for people to forgive you! Damn you! You bitch! Let her go!" she screeches at him. The group of mothers holds her back murmur soothingly, backing her up but holding her back to save her from this fate.

The girl watches with a stiff lip but trembling eyes as the man leers to her. He eyes her torn clothes with shameless lust. He grabs her arm as she tries to pull back and halls her up. He grins like a mad animal and kisses her lips. She keeps hers closed. But then she yelps and blood flows down her cheeks. She opens her mouth and we can see his tongue as he shoves it down her throat. She chokes on it. But them she fights back, biting down hard on it until it bleeds. He drops her, breaking the kiss. She falls on her butt, dazed but the sudden change. She blinks up and he wipes his mouth, and then slaps her hard. Her hand goes to her cheek, but she has to gasp as he suddenly tops her, tearing what's left of her clothes and thrusting himself in. she cries out as her youth is taken, unwillingly, from her. Her eyes go dark and she screams. I see a tear fall from her eyes.

I can't take this. His backs to me now. I can do this.

I grab my knife, and without further adieu run up to him. I jump up as he slides out, and thrust my knife right through his shoulder. But I leave it there, making him scream and fail in pain. A mother runs up to quickly pull the girl out of the way, and into her mother's protective arms. She hugs her close. The ring of mothers positions themselves around the two protectively. The enemy stands up, turning to me. His fingers find my throat quickly, too fast for me to see. I choke but quickly bite down on his hand and he yelps. He drops me and I roll out of the way of his foot. I jump up again to grab my knife but miss. He moves out of my way and I fall on the ground. A mother helps me up. I turn once again and have to duck as his fist seeks to find my head. I'm behind him and try to reach for the knife again. This time, my fingers merely brush it.

He ducks again, throwing me over his shoulder and tossing me under his foot. I whimper but kick his shin to bring him to his knees. His knee finds my chest and I push him away. He rolls and I jump onto his back. I grab the knife as he rises up and thrashes about. His fingers find my skin, ripping at it. I grit my teeth and hold on as he tries to grab me. He moves so much that I can't remove the knife, so I try my best to knock him on the ground. But I'm too short, and can't reach a good area. That is, until suddenly I feel a hand on my back. I turn to see some of the mothers were hitting at his arms. Some children were holding his legs, gripping tightly as he tries to shake them off. A mother bites down on his fingers, while another finds his ear. He struggles against them but falls, and I pull out the knife. I grip his hair and pull his face up. My knife-whoopsy daisy- finds his throat easily. "This…" I whisper. "Is our 'welcome package'." I slid the knife against his throat slowly and painfully.

He bleeds out just as I rise up.

I am helping the mothers back up when I finally hear the soldier screaming down the street. I still hesitate. It could be a trick. But I hear the familiar call of the street rats- a soft bird call, a quick 1 2 3, 4 5 6 notes. Meaning "ru ri ra, ru ri ra." A lullaby I remembered. I blink as the harsh sun greets me, telling me I survived yet another war. My followers quickly come find me and I order them softly to free our people. I order a few to help my "mothers"- offer them food, rest, water. As thanks for helping me. They comply with a "yes boss." I stare after them. "must be weird for them, right?" I turn to face Yuma, who spoke. "being bossed around by a 14 year old kid. I mean, you only began your training-what, 2 years before old man died?"

I smack Yuma on the head. "be careful," I say warningly. "this kid can still order your head to be cut and your fingers cut off to be my new back scratcher." I smile at Yuma. He nervously smiles back. "you really need to get a sense of humor." He laughs at me. Only Yuma is brave enough to piss me off. That's why I trust him. he's known me, trained me, and opened his arms to me ever since I suddenly joined this little posse I ruled/dictated/ordered around/ cared for. No one else is so carefree around me. Usually I am scorned from those "above" me or respected by those "below" me. And I hated it. We are equals. But the only person I can feel that with was with Yuma.

As I stand there laughing with Yuma, I feel a soft tug on my shirt. I turn ad look down to see a young girl. She holds up some cloth to me. "You were hits so…I brought you something to make you feel better!" she smiles cheerfully up at me. I stare down at her, then smile and take the cloth from her. "Thank you." I say. She blushes and giggles. She turns and says "mama! Mama! I gave him some cloth and he said thank you!" I look up to see the group of mothers approach me. They walk steadily, with pride. I know what's coming. But all the same, I let the girl take my hand and walk me over to greet them. The air is tense. I stare as they try to stare me down. The girl somehow senses the atmosphere and grips my hand. Her mother motions to her and she hesitates, looking up. I smile down at her and whisper a soft "go ahead." She giggles and waves bye as she joins her mother.

"Thank you." A leader of the group says scornfully. "For saving us." I smile. "It was nothing." I say politely. The air is still tense. Until one girl smacks the leader and says "oh, stop it! I have to apologize to you- she's really grateful, but she doesn't like to show her feelings." She says to me. She and a few others step forward. "So, I apologize, and formally say thank you, from the bottom of our hearts. We are in your dept. anything you wish, we'll do." She bows to me. Her long green hair falls forward. Her friends follow suit. Then, slowly, one after the other, all of the mothers bows to me. I suddenly feel tears start to form.

You have to understand, this is not normal for street rats.

We are usually ridiculed by others, hated. Scorned. Mothers were the worst. They forced their children to stay away from us. They sometimes beat us. Even the ones who took pity on us were cruel; making false promises to us, trying to make us feel better- it hurt. Knowing that we'd never get to have that. As orphans and servants thrown out, we don't have our family. Hence why I forced the new pact. So we wouldn't feel alone. So we'd have a whole new family, a family that understood more than anyone else.

They rise again, and I thank them, teary eyed. I take what they offer to me and they go on their merry way. The little girl from before looks back and waves, and I wave back. We smile at each other and she turns around. I let my hand stop waving. It hangs in the air for a while before falling. Argh, I smack my cheeks. Focus, Len. Time to think. People are coming out. Followers appear once again before me to escort me down to that place. I send a few to check on the town, make sure everything was alright before disappearing from view again. Yuma leads the rest down, leaving me to stand in the sunlight. In the middle of the road.

In hindsight I really shouldn't have been there that day. On that road.

Because this will happen:

I had forgotten to mention how military men are when they come home. Some- the young ones- are energetic and think everything is entitled to them. They are usually corrected by the older ones when they go too far and calm down. The older ones, the ones experienced in war, are just tired. Tired of killing. Tired of running. Tired of saving us. Tired and disgusted by the blood on tier hands. We don't take glory in taking a life. What so great about killing an enemy that's fighting for a reason? Of course, that reason is always different- they fought for their family, their homes, and for the future they saw brightly. Just as we did. Or they fought to save their lands, to bring back what they knew as its former glory. Or they fought for love, to see their soul mate once again. Wars are anything but pretty. You know this. But you must realize a shocking truth:

There is nothing gained from taking a life but there is something gained in winning a war.

You may hate taking a man's dream away from them. You may despise for being the one to crush his dreams permantly. You may curse yourself, your home for being one of the reasons you had to take a life. But you are glad you won that war. Glad to be home again. Glad to live. Glad to see your wives, sisters, and children. Glad to still be hoping, praying, and achieving that life and dream you sought. In a war, something is always lost- your humanity, your conscious. Maybe even a finger or an arm or leg. But in the end, it's worth it to see your home prosper. To see neighbors smile and wave at them. To hold your children close to you. To kiss your spouses, to sleep on a warm bed. It's worth it all, just to keep a dream alive. A shared dream. How many times can a few humans share a same exact dream? A same hope for the future? A same dream? It's not the common.

I digress.

These older members are rushing their tired horses' home. They want to see their families again. They want to be reminded of that dream they fought so hard for. And so, this is how I got nearly trampled by a black horse. In the middle of the road.

"Whoa! Easy, Para, easy." A deep voice calms the dark colored horse –Para, I assume- as it rears up and back down. It heaves out huge breathes, shaken and upset. It clams down further as a hand sooths its neck. All the while I am standing, not three inched away, from it. Have you ever been near a war horse before? No, I think not. Well, they're not short and cute and lovable. These horses are train for war. Their huge- the common height from them is eight feet! The only way I can easily describe what it's like is if you stood next to an eight foot spider or a beasty that's been trained in the art of killing- of running out there with something on its back, trampling everything in its way. To bravely run into a fire or a pool of swords with no hope of ever returning- that's what stood before me. Something that almost had killed me.

I stood frozen on the spot.

Para's rider- I have yet to see his face- dismounted. He rubbed slow, soothing circles over his horse. First on the hind legs, then moving to the stomach. He hummed a soft tune that I could barely hear but seemed to calm his horse down. Its breathing slowed until it breathed a heavy sigh, its rider patting its nose. I can see his back now. His hair is a deep light blue, like a darker blue then the sky. The top of his head easily reaches his horse's eyes, giving him a huge height. Like a giant. But his back is what gets to me. He moves his arms fluidly, with no wasted motions. Like he knows what to do, when to do it, how to do it and no one will ask him why. Like a prince. "Be calm, Para." He whispers to it. The dark horse nickers softly and nudges his chest. "That's it, girl. Easy now." Para pops her black head up and down, seemingly replying to him. All this happens before but yet I still don't run away. Why not? I ask myself. Why am I not being the street rat I am and running, running and hiding from someone who is now turning to me.

His eyes are just as blue as the sky, which somehow works with his dark blue hair. What was the color that would help describe it? Cerulean? No. that is the color of my eyes. Which were a much different blue then his. What was its name? Azure? Yes. His eyes were a beautiful shade of azure. They were striking, profound, just as the rest of his features were. His chin, his jaw, his eyes, his hair…all was sharp. But there was…something about his eyes…I blink. They were cold. They sent sudden shivers up my body the moment they found me. But hidden there, deep within, was this…I don't know, warmth? Gentleness? I cannot begin to describe it. And I would not know where to begin. You would have to stand right here with me, and see through my eyes what I saw.

"You." He says. I shiver. His voice is deep, but it's sharp as well. It made me wonder what else was sharp about him…oh, shut up, me! I yell at myself. We can't do that now! I remind myself. I look down. "Why do you stand in the middle of the road?" I flinch at how cold his voice sounds. I bow to him. "I am sorry. But you should've been more careful." I speak formally and politely, yet my tone is harsh. He looks surprised. I point my finger at him. "you should've been paying more attention to the road. What if that was a young child? And old man? What would they have done?" I am about to continue but my finger it taken by a hand. I gasp and look up. I see the owner of the hand on my head- a tall man with long purple hair- but I focus more on the man in front of me that looks away. "who…are you?" I growl out. I can't help my reaction-when I'm scared I feel I must scold or punish that who had scared me. "that is none of your concern. What you should be worried about is your punishment." What? Punishment? I blink up at them. "for public nusance and offending the Prince." I blink. I point, wide eyed, at the man hol ing my hadn. But he sneers and motions at the man next to him. I slowly turn my head to look up at…So this man is…? I am forced to look back down.

I have already pissed this man off; I didn't need any more reason to be beaten. "I will be leaving now. Please forgive and forget me." I bow again. But I am suddenly forced back into another bow by a hand on my head. "That's not the way to bow to a prince. Now, get on the floor and bow-no, beg for his forgiveness." A gruff voice says. "Don't you hear me? I said beg!" I am knocked off my feet and on the ground, face first. But I quickly wipe my face and bow a deep bow. The kind of bow you see monks do as they worship to the gods. Where I am on my knees, my hands connected by the tips of my first finger and thumb. My forehead rests in the triangle formed by my hands on the ground. "I am very sorry, milord. I did not know it was you! It will not happen again!" I say in a pleading tone.

I keep my head down, waiting. For the pain that has yet to come. For the shouting, the games. The teasing. But it doesn't. I wait longer. Until I finally hear a voice, right above my head, saying; "raise your head up." I comply hesitantly. I let my eyes find the ground, then an arm, a shoulder, a chin, and lips. I stop there. It would be considered the highest form of disrespect if I looked into his eyes. A solider is not allowed to look into his eyes; for such an action called for punishment of beating. A mere street rat shouldn't even be able to see his face. Yet here I am, looking right at his nose.

I was looking at the nose of the most powerful man in our land. Our lord and king, Prince Kaito.

Me.

A street rat.

How many times in a day can one feel so honored yet be afraid of ridicule? I ask myself.

"Look at me." I gasp as his fingers reach out to hold my chin up. I flinch away, but am forced to grunt in surprise as I am hit. "Don't refuse your lords wish." I hear. I look down. I am not supposed to even be here, much less be touched by the Prince. How am I to save myself from punishment of touching the Prince but not refusing him? And he isn't making it easy! I whine softly as he reaches yet again to touch my chin. I pull back barely, enough so no one saw except for him and I. I hope he catches my hint. But apparently I was on some gods' bad list today, because His Highness still reaches for my chin. He catches it this time. Mostly because I have given up._ It's fine as long as I don't have to look into his eyes,_ I think. _As long as I don't look up, it'll be fine-_

"Look at me."

_Dammit it all!_ I think. I keep my eyes low but look up at his lips. He still holds my chin in his hand, and I can smell the scent of horses from it. He tries to lift it further so my eyes meet his, but I keep my gaze on his lips. He sighs. "Please spare me…" I whisper. It's not like I want to say the words; they just rolled out. I can only hope he didn't hear me. But alas, he does. I can tell by the sharp intake of breath I know I wouldn't hear if he wasn't so close to me. I almost jerk my eyes up in surprise but control myself. "I-"

A swish of air from an arrow flying through its path is heard right above me. And I hear a choking sound.

And I suddenly don't think at all.

I grab the Prince, throwing him below me. I look up, up, right at the person who shot the arrow. He sneers at me. He reaches behind him to grab another arrow but I grab my dagger. I throw it with precision; I know I might seem impossible for someone to hit a person who's at least 50 feet above me. But since this is me we're talking about, the shot is easy. The knife easily finds his exposed neck. He throws his back from the force and falls forward, bleeding as he falls onto the ground. But he wasn't the only one up there. He's companion steps forward, bow loaded. He shoots but I roll out of the way. I grab another dagger out of a soldier's belt and throw it again, hitting the mark. He falls, but not before firing his bow. I follow the arrows path, predicting where it will land. Right on the Princes' slender neck. _Gods, no!_ I think, a fear suddenly deep within me. I think not of the consequences, of the punishment I might be given. All I think of is that the arrow must not hit him, not _him._ I reach out to grab him but he is already being pushed out of the way. Into me. I catch him as we fall, but he turns us so I fall on him.

And when we reach the ground, the force causes our lips to meet.

I gasp in surprise, my eyes open in shock. His eyes are open wide too. My blue eyes meet his azure blue ones, our confusion being sent and received. I am about to move off of him when I feel a tongue brush my lips. I freeze. Okay. That must've been an accident. He probably didn't mean to do that. Just…just move already! Get up! Now! Shaking, I quickly try to rise but am forced back down onto his waiting lips-did I just say _waiting _lips?! Holy gods, what is wrong with me?! But such thoughts are dissipated as I feel his tongue lick my lips again. I shake my head. No, no, no, no! This is…this is too…I gasp again as he tries to enter my mouth. I nip him, and he pulls back slightly. I pull off of him and crawl as far away as I can.

My breath comes out in short gasps. From too much physical excursion or from the kiss…I don't know. I lick my lips as I remember the kiss, and I taste something…strange. Not bad. Instead it tasted _delicious_. I tasted like something just beyond the taste of sweet. Something so pure yet sharp, I can't begin to describe it. My fingers go to my lips. My tongue darts out to lick the taste again but finds only my fingers. I am…disappointed, to find the taste gone. I want more. I gasp again. I glance over to see the Prince rising up from the ground.

I rise and bow before I make any more mistakes.

_**guys guys guys guess what? this is the prequel of that one fanfic from "oneshots when i was bored" (is that even its name?) well, whatever. yes, this is official the prequel to it. be happy. **_

_**oh! and come check out my profile for status updated you don't really care about but explains my latest excuse. plus, i'm putting up a question answering thing so you can ask any question you want (as long as its not too personal) so come on, my dear readers! ask me a question!**_


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